Frostbitten
by Merlyn Pyndragon
Summary: Camelot has found herself caught in the clutches of an unnatural winter. Morgana demands something hidden in the deepest depths of the castle, forcing Merlin and Arthur to do what they can to retrieve it and so stop the curse...But something else is waiting, waiting for them in the dark...
1. Not One for Winter

**Allllllrighty then, I hope this works. This is my first attempt at fanfic, and hopefully – if you people love me ;) – there'll be more. **

**I OWN BBC MERLIN... *shrug* one can wish ;D This is merely for fun. Know in advance that any 'magic' words used are on majority just gibberish – with symbols to make them look cooler. A few are in Latin, because there are no decent Olde English translaters anywhere. I've also changed/added some characters.**

**So, tell me what you think. Enjoy Frostbitten!**

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><p>~1~ <span>Not One for Winter<span>

He awoke to the feeling of having slept on an iceberg. His nose was stuffed, his throat raw, and his mouth sticky. And there was snow on his bed sheets.

Merlin sat up abruptly, scattering the snow and exposing his bare chest to an icy breeze, bellowing in from the open window. More flakes blustered inside, coating his clothes and books like dandruff. A snowstorm raged outside – a snowstorm, in the middle of July!

"Gaius!" The young warlock crashed from his cot, tangled in his sheets. "Gaius, wake up!" Wrapping the blanket around himself, he threw on a pair of boots for warmth and burst through the door from his quarters, down the stairs and into the main room, where he found the aged physician lying where he always slept: on the bed before the fireplace.

Fetching a pile of wood from the corner, he hastily heaped them in the hearth, but could not find the fire-starter. Spreading an open palm over the stacked tinder, he hissed, "Brækĩuş!" The magic roiled within him like a living thing, stretching warm wings in his chest. A flame flared from his hand and ignited the wood instantly, flickering playfully.

Gaius, who was shivering in his sleep, woke just as Merlin finished slamming all of the windows shut against the persistent wind.

"Something's not right," said Merlin, pulling on a second coat. Their winter wear was, of course, locked away for the summer.

"Really? You think so? Sometimes I wonder at your intelligence, lad. Look at this mess! Snow everywhere!"

"I must see Arthur."

"What for?" Gaius shuffled close to the fire, rubbing his stiffened hands together.

"The prince will be wondering why he hasn't got a fire yet. He's not really one for winter."

"But it _isn't_ winter!"

"Exactly! That's why something's not right!" And he was gone. Gaius shook his head and grabbed the broom.

Ψ

His teeth were practically chattering out of his jaw by the time he reached the prince's chambers. Being Arthur's manservant, he would first be getting his master's royal breakfast from the kitchens, but priorities had to be sorted.

Just as he suspected, Arthur was quite miffed by the cold, yet was still half asleep when Merlin arrived.

"_How_ could you have let the fire go out, Merlin?" he snapped grumpily before the warlock could open his mouth. "Are you getting so lazy that even _that_ is a burden?" Merlin said nothing, instead stood at the door, hands clasped behind his back. "_And_ you left the window open," Arthur growled, pulling on a robe. "How stupid could you be to leave a window open in the middle of July—" Arthur froze, much like the icicles forming on his curtains, then strode to the window, aghast, staring at the unnatural snow.

"And a good morning to you, too, sire."

"What the hell is this?"

"I believe it is referred to as _snow_, mi'lord," replied Merlin before he could stop himself. Arthur shot him a venomous look. Truth be told, if any servant _but_ Merlin had said such a thing to him, he would have been booted from his duties in the castle. Not before a time in the stocks, of course.

Their relationship was peculiar, one that was started when Merlin first saved Arthur Pendragon's life from an avenging witch. King Uther saw it fit to grant Merlin, who had just come to Camelot, the honour of being the prince's manservant as a reward. Since then, they had thrown their necks out for each other.

The problem? Merlin was a warlock, and magic of any kind was forbidden in the kingdom of Camelot, under pain of death, no matter what the magician's intentions. None but a few knew of his power, which came to him as naturally as breathing, one being Gaius the physician. Merlin wasn't sure if he could trust Arthur with his secret, for, after all, the prince's first priority was to the king. Even if he knew that it was magic that saved him on multiple occasions, it was impossible for Merlin to predict his reaction. At least for now.

"I must tell my father," said Arthur, disappearing behind the ornate dressing screen in the corner.

"I'm pretty sure he knows by now, sire. Even in his condition."

"Well, what do _you_ suggest, then, _Merlin_?" asked Arthur in exasperation. The warlock shrugged.

"Start shovelling?"


	2. An Old Face

~2~ An Old Face

"What can it be other than sorcery?" said Arthur flatly to his knights. He was sitting at the head of the war room table, elbow on the armrest, chin resting thoughtfully on his fist. "Will we ever be rid of it?"

To his right sat Sirs Lancelot, Gwaine, Gallahad, and Percival. To his left, Sirs Elyan, Leon, and William. The remaining seats were filled with King Uther's advisers. Merlin dutifully stood by a marble pillar, regarding the Knights of the Round Table and the crowned prince silently, yet grimly.

"But who?" said Gwaine. "Not...the Lady Morgana?"

Arthur grunted. "Whoever it is, the sorcerer must be powerful indeed, to have brought about such a storm. This is no small feat."

"And not the least bit friendly," added Elyan, to nods all around.

Merlin shivered, and not only from the cold. It was Morgana, all right. The familiar black taint of her magic snarled at his own pure power like a feral beast. Harmless, but alarming.

"Has anyone told the king?" asked Leon.

"Yes." Arthur glanced up at Gwenevere, who was in charge of looking after Uther, his father and the king of Camelot. She didn't smile. "But he's been as he's always been since..." He sighed impatiently, and sadly.

"What do you suggest, then, mate?" enquired Gwaine. "Behead the witch?" Lancelot kicked the ruffian knight under the table.

"Whatever we do, we must do fast," put out Elyan forcefully. "Livestock and crops won't last long in this unnatural weather, not to mention the people in the outlying villages; they may be cut off completely from aid should it be needed from us."

Suddenly there was a pounding on the great wooden door, and upon permission, a man entered, triple-layered in clothing, making him look rotund. Snow blanketed his shoulders and head. "A message for you, sire," the man said, bowing.

Arthur stood and took the small roll of parchment from the messenger, and unravelled it. Merlin wandered over, curious, as the prince frowned.

"What's this rubbish?" snapped Arthur, looking at the single word etched onto the paper.

"What is it, sire?" asked Leon, standing, and the other knights followed.

"It was brought by a crow," the messenger said quietly.

"It's just gibberish. Not even a name," replied Arthur impatiently. "Looks like..._aw-_dire."

"...No, more like ao_-dire,_" said Lancelot.

"_Aw-_deer," pronounced Gwaine confidently.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "It's _áudîré_."

As Arthur snorted in derision, a powerful wind blustered in through the door, knocking everyone back a half-step. They all covered their eyes and raised their arms up, protecting themselves as papers from the table whirled around them in a vortex. The guards by the doors wielded their weapons high but didn't know what to do. Then as quick as it came, the wind was gone.

"What the _hell_ was that?" said Gwaine, combing his unruly hair down.

"I don't know, but it didn't make it any warmer in here," said Elyan, teeth chattering.

"Knights of Camelot."

The frosty female voice drew more swords and made people spin on their heels. In the middle of the room stood Morgana, smiling like a fox.

"Morgana?" breathed Arthur. Then, "Seize her!"

Guards lunged forward to do his bidding, but even as they neared, Uther's former ward didn't react. The guards reached for her arms, only for their hands to pass right through her. Morgana looked at them all smugly.

"Fools. This is just a whisper of my existence. You cannot touch me."

"We have no wish to hear your words. Begone, Morgana!" Arthur snarled, raising his drawn sword, though his voice cracked. For as long as he could remember, Morgana had been a regular mortal like him, and was practically a sister to him. Now that he knew that she really was a half-sister and that she wants the throne of the kingdom, not to mention his head, his world was upside down.

"If you didn't want to listen, then you should not have read the message," she said, as icily as the storm she had conjured.

Arthur glowered at Merlin, who shrugged helplessly.

"Calm down, gentlemen, I only wish to talk."

"What do you want?" Arthur snapped, not lowering his sword.

"Something that wasn't yours to begin with," Morgana replied. "Something that has been hidden away, under your noses, beneath this very castle."

The prince glared. "There's nothing down there."

"Don't be foolish," Morgana chortled. "The map is hidden in the archives, but you haven't yet gathered the courage to go down there...You can keep denying, _prince_, but that won't make the snow vanish."

"What are you speaking of, sorceress?" demanded Leon, standing protectively by Arthur.

Morgana's chin tilted up. "Your salvation, hidden in the deepest pits of Camelot. Give me what I want, and I'll lift the curse. You don't have much of a choice. It's amazing how quick a crop can die in such coldness."

The knights and advisers suddenly became _really_ aware of the large plumes of warm air emitting from their mouths.

"The longer you take, the worse it gets," said Morgana, who was starting to fade. Just before she disappeared, her eyes found Merlin's across the room. "Beware the beast within." Her ivory teeth flashed in a wolfish smile as she vanished. The young warlock shuddered.

"We must prepare a search party immediately," said Arthur, struggling not to grit his teeth as suppressed sorrows resurfaced.

"In search of _what_, exactly?" asked Gwaine.

Arthur took his time sheathing his blade. "Not sure." He looked thoughtful, and frustrated.

"There are caves below Camelot," said Lancelot. "Was there anything besides the Great Dragon kept down there?"

"Not...that I know of."

"Would the king?"


	3. Idiot

**What do you think so far? Not enough action? It's only the third chapter and I **_**tried**_** to fill in the missing excitement with humour~I hope it's working :) Don't worry, it'll get better soon.**

**I've made the chapters really short. Should I combine a few to make them longer? Or keep them as is? I plan on updating a new chapter every day or so (seeing as the story's pretty much done already and I don't need time to finish). I'll update two today because this one is shorter than the others and because I like you :)**

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><p>~3~ <span>Idiot<span>

Uther didn't know. At least, he didn't seem to.

The king sat in a wooden chair, staring vacantly out the misted window, clean-shaven only because Gwen was there to look after him. Cold, untouched food sat on a table not far away. Gwen had just re-fed the fire and picked up the food tray when the prince and his manservant entered the room. She smiled, and curtsied, despite Arthur's insistence that she shouldn't do such a courtesy, not for him.

"Has he said anything?" asked Arthur gently, eyes on his father.

"Nothing. Not even about this...weather." Gwen smiled again at them both, hiding the spreading hopelessness she felt, and left with the untouched food.

Merlin followed Gwenevere out, to leave the prince some time with his father.

"I won't tell Arthur," he began, "if you tell me how you really feel about the king's condition."

Gwen sighed, and smiled once more, painfully. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Gwen, it's been over a year, and there's barely been a word to you, Gaius, or to his own son."

"He won't say anything." Gwen and Merlin both jumped, and looked sheepish as Arthur came up behind them. "We're going to have to look for this..._thing_ ourselves."

Ψ

For three days they searched in the archives, looking for the map that had the greatest chance of being what Morgana meant. It was a map of the tunnels far beneath Camelot, entering via a hidden door in the Great Dragon's cave and former prison and ending with a rough sketch of a waterfall. The weather worsened with each day, and those who were unprepared and helpless died very soon –especially the very young, elderly, and sickly.

Without further delay, Arthur created a search party, and prepared to depart.

Ψ

The cold was as cruel as the longest night of winter. The fires, swiftly devouring every chunk of wood in sight, could not keep the chill from inside the castle walls. The inhabitants had to pile every piece of clothing onto their backs just to keep from shivering. Fortunately for Merlin, Gaius was always prepared.

He straightened from yanking on a third pair of socks and passed a wool hat to the physician. He strapped on a dagger to his side and left. Arthur had sent him a message that morning, wanting him to rendezvous at the Grand Hall.

Stepping outside, the icy wind stole his breath away, clawing at the back of his throat, leaving him coughing helplessly. His thoughts strayed from Arthur's orders and towards Morgana's demand, and he wondered what it could be for her to deal so much damage to acquire.

As he ploughed his way across the courtyard, he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets in a vain attempt to keep them from stiffening. The wind made everything difficult to hear, so even when someone called his name, he remained oblivious.

"HEY!" The exclamation was accompanied by a chucked snow ball that hit him squarely in the ear. He rounded about angrily in search of his attacker, to find a solitary figure at the barrack's side door, at the top of the stairs, waving its arms. Shuffling swiftly through the snow, he struggled up the steps, or tried to, as the figure urged him to hurry. He slipped several times, and somehow, the cursed snow managed to slip through the barely-existent crack between his sleeves and his gloves.

Upon reaching the summit, a helping hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him inside the door, which was barely open enough to emit the pair of them.

"What took you so long?" Arthur demanded as they both brushed the snow off of themselves, which didn't even begin to melt as it piled on the floor. A couple of disgruntled guards, both bundled up until they were round against the chill, closed the door and held their attention in the presence of their prince, until Arthur and his manservant were half way down the corridor. Then they slumped and began to vigorously rub their hands to warm them.

"The Grand Hall was full of people looking for answers to this mess. I left Sir Leon in charge, and we had to move our meeting place – you must have missed the new message...We'd been waiting for a long time, Merlin, and we almost left without you. I asked you why you took so long."

"Sight seeing," said Merlin flatly. Arthur, missing the sarcasm, gave him a look of half incredulity, half disgust.

"You really _are_ an idiot, aren't you?"


	4. The Journey Begins

~4~ The Journey Begins

"...We cannot stay down here forever. We have enough food for...Merlin, are you listening to me?" Arthur punched the other youth lightly in the shoulder. Merlin flinched guiltily.

"Y-yeah, sorry." But the warlock _wasn't_ listening. A rush of memories had flooded back like an inbound tide as he, Arthur, and his Knights of the Round Table stood on the ledge before an enormous cave, empty but for the frozen lake at the bottom, gleaming in the thin rays of light that shone through numerous small openings from the outside.

"Camelot is in danger, and we can't afford people to start _daydreaming_," Arthur retorted, leading the way down the narrow stairs to the floor of the cave.

"Yes, sire." Merlin followed, shivering, his nostrils filled with the metallic, reptilian odour of the magnificent creature that had formally been imprisoned there.

"This is where the Great Dragon was once kept," announced the prince, his voice echoing emptily off the stalagmites and their hanging kin.

"I know that," said Merlin without thinking. He shut his mouth, regretting his words. He nearly walked into Arthur as he halted in mid-step.

"How?" Arthur demanded, half turning around.

Merlin struggled for an answer as the whole party came to a stop. "Uh, it...You can see claw marks, there, on the cliff..."

After a few seconds, Arthur continued, the air of suspicion ebbing away. "And as you all know, it had escaped its chains, chains that had kept it here for a quarter of a century."

"He was the last of his kind. I don't think anything should be trapped forever," blurted Merlin. Then he bit his tongue, wondering why it was so loose that day.

"It doesn't matter what you think, Merlin," the prince snapped. "You know not to question the king's word."

"Yes, _sire_." Merlin couldn't help but smirk. He'd lost count how many times the prince had ignored his father's orders, doing what he felt was best. Arthur knew what had to be done, and had suffered the consequences of Uther's wrath in order to save the kingdom on multiple occasions. Even the creation of the Knights of the Round Table had not been Uther's command – not that he was in any condition to dissipate the group at the time.

Sirs Gwaine, Lancelot, William, Gallahad, Elyan, and Percival followed the prince down the steep staircase. Merlin, of course, was there because he would not let Arthur go anywhere without him at his side to protect him – he doesn't know how many times he had saved Arthur's neck without the prince even knowing. He was told, after all, by the Great Dragon Kilgharrah, that it was his destiny to protect the young Pendragon until he was king, when he would unite and make peace within the land of Albion. Only, unable to use magic in fear of getting burned to death, everything was just that much more difficult.

And of course, Arthur simply enjoyed Merlin's company, not that he would admit it if a dagger was held to his throat.

Almost a half hour later, they had reached the floor of the cave and were at the opposite end of the monstrous cavern. Arthur held his torch up and ran it before the door that was practically hidden, but right where the map said it would be.

Merlin brought the map closer towards Arthur's torch, and squinted to read the notes scribbled in black ink near the picture of the door, at the top left corner of the parchment.

"Here we are," said Arthur grimly. "The way down to the furthest depths of the kingdom...Now what?" The door had no handle, and did not budge when he tried to shoulder it open.

"There should be a lever," murmured Merlin, bringing the map even closer to try to make out the faded words. "Somewhere—"

"Where?" demanded Arthur, turning quickly. Thanks to Merlin's cat-like reflexes (which often betrayed him to humiliation), the servant was able to whip the map away before it could catch aflame.

"There," he pointed.

Moments later, the party stood before the dismal abyss that was the start of their journey. Arthur cursed. "And I thought I couldn't get colder," he grumbled, leading the way down. "Remember to keep an eye out for the beast..."


	5. Thought I Knew You

**How am I doing? Are you intrigued? I hope so ~ things should get more exciting from here on out :D**

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><p>~5~ <span>Thought I Knew You<span>

The going was easy going at first. They descended the broken stone steps, then crossed a large, bottomless gap via a natural ledge (at least, it was thought bottomless until Merlin kicked a pebble over the side and listened hard, to hear it splash ten seconds later in a pool far below). After another five minutes, they reached the first test.

"Any hints on your map, Merlin?" asked Arthur. They had reached a cavern with natural walls but a man-carved floor. Tiles, two feet wide and no more than half an inch apart, covered the whole surface, but they were filled with holes. The company studied the place in silence for a minute.

"Seems pretty straight forward, sire," said Gallahad. There was a door at the other end of the cavern, not directly across from them, which Merlin thought queer.

Arthur took a cautious step forward onto a tile and tried to pushed it down, expecting a cave-in or some other catastrophe. Nothing happened. He shook his head. "Nothing to worry about, men," he said, taking a second step.

"_No!_"

Arthur choked as Merlin snatched the back of his cloak and yanked him back off the slabs, unbalancing him, just as long spikes, rusty and shrieking with age, jabbed up out of the holes in the tile for a heart's rest before falling back inside.

"Not so straight forward, actually. Pressure plates," said Merlin, ignoring Arthur's look of incredulity, and he returned to gazing at the map for clues. He felt himself going red as he sensed them all staring at him. "I wouldn't be surprised if those spikes, obviously impossible to avoid, have been poisoned. Not that it matters. So, there must be a way to navigate through without triggering any more traps."

"Arthur, look at this." Lancelot was investigating the wall of their tunnel, and was dusting at a narrow outcrop, a ledge, that ran into the cavern along the wall, until it vanished into darkness.

Merlin went to investigate the ledge, while Arthur spoke. "Maybe we'll find something to lay on the floor so we can cross without impaling ourselves..."

"No, wait. Arthur, give me your torch."

Arthur grimaced. "How about, 'Pass me your torch, please, your majesty'?"

Gwaine had already given his own torch to Merlin, who touched the tip of it onto the ledge. Aged tar suddenly sparked to life, and as the company drew back in alarm, the flame ran along the ledge until it reached the far end of the cavern, where the fire abruptly went straight up, then to the left, then right, then diagonal, then left again, and all over until it suddenly stopped. The room was now mostly lit, and they could see the tiles more easily.

"Now it's obvious," said Merlin breezily.

"_What's_ obvious?" asked Arthur, bewildered on how his idiot servant had managed to do two intelligent things in less than five minutes.

Merlin pointed. At the far end, where the flame had suddenly gone in weird directions, a mosaic-like picture, made of small squares, had become a map. Every tile that was not aflame on the picture was instead carved with a monster face, possibly an image of death.

"Follow the light," said Merlin, and led the way across the maze.

Safely across, Arthur clapped his companion heartily on the back. "Got to hand it to you, Merlin. I thought I knew you."

"Trust me, you don't," the other muttered.

"Hm?"

"Nothing."


	6. Riddles in the Dark

**'Bout half way there, mates...**

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><p>~6~ <span>Riddles in the Dark<span>

They started to shed layers of clothing as they lost the unnatural cold above and the travelling set their hearts pumping. They kept their swords loose, ready for anything, or in Merlin's case, a dagger. Percival opted for carrying the food supplies. Lancelot, taking up the rear, strapped his kite shield to his back, just in case. They rested a few times, but the urgency to retrieve what Morgana demanded kept them hastening on.

It was not until what they judged to be a mile later did they finally hit catastrophe.

Elyan had shed a cloak and set it down on a stalagmite to abandon, when they all paused as a clunking sound echoed through the tunnel. Then there was the unmistakable slithering of exposing metal, and an axe swung from the wall on a pendulum, right towards Elyan.

There was not even time to gasp before Elyan felt himself get shoved to the floor, and was suddenly showered with hot blood. He turned, and stared in horror at the sight before him.

Sir William, cleaved nearly in two, slumped lifelessly off the blade and fell to the ground, eyes still open in surprise.

They had to leave the body behind, of course, even when Elyan insisted they take it with them for proper burial. Arthur was furious.

"Why didn't you warn us of that trap?" he roared, dropping his torch and grabbing Merlin's collar, before shoving him against the wall of the cave.

"I-I didn't know it was there! I swear, it wasn't noted!" Merlin protested, trying to break free.

Arthur released him, breathing heavily through his nose in fury. "One more screw up—"

"Arthur! There's another room!" called Gwaine.

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><p>They continued in silence, each more white in the face than the last from the gruesome memory. Merlin wanted to be sick, but he held it back. It was his greatest fear to lose a friend, and he had lost more than one over the years.<p>

They entered the second cavern. It was empty but for an alter at the other end; on it was a roll of parchment. Around the outside of the room were several doors, and the floor was pocketed randomly with wide, unfathomable holes, ominous and foreboding.

"What's that god-awful stench?" Percival grunted. "Putrid."

"It's your breath," said Gwaine, clapping the indignant knight on the shoulder. "Lay off the garlic."

Arthur stepped up to the altar and cautiously took the parchment, glancing around to make sure he was not about to be slaughtered by an unseen trap. He unravelled it, and frowned.

"I...I can't read this," he grunted, frowning. Merlin looked over his shoulder. The knights were investigating the surrounding doors, carved into the walls just like the one in the Great Dragon's cave.

"Of course not," said Merlin. "It's in the Ancient Tongue, the language spoken by the priests of the Old Religion."

The Pendragon turned towards the warlock and gave that same expression of disbelief he gave him before, when he pulled Arthur away from the lethal tiles in the other room.

Again Merlin ignored it. "It's a riddle—"

"Wait, _you_ can _read_ this?"

Merlin glanced up at him, as though surprised the prince didn't know. "...Yeah."

Arthur still looked baffled. "But—"

"The map's written in the same tongue," Merlin explained, "as was that one word that activated Morgana's message."

"So you're saying...you've been doing something intelligent the whole time we were down here?" If Arthur detected the deflation in Merlin, he ignored it. "What does it say then?"

Merlin fairly snatched the altar parchment out of Arthur's hand and began to recite:

_If there is anything else, I cannot be,  
><em>_Like darkness within the light.  
><em>_If you're lost, remember this,  
><em>_I am only there if you are not._

"Riddles in the dark," Percival muttered.

Arthur raised his eye brows at Merlin. "That's it?"

The warlock reread the note and then checked the back for anything else. "That's all it says."

"Rubbish! How is a _riddle_ going to help us?"

"If the answer is something physical, like an animal," started Gwaine, "then maybe the picture of the answer is carved onto one of these doors."

Merlin shook his head thoughtfully. "No, that's too simple. Any idiot could then check every door and figure out which picture fits the riddle best."

Arthur, on the verge of saying how brilliant Gwaine's plan was, flushed and shut his mouth, turning away stiffly.

"I'm going to try a door," announced Lancelot. He reached for the closest handle.

The door swung open easily into nothing but a crack in the wall. Only Lancelot saw the pulley-system on the other side, however, but did not have time to react before the booby trap was sprung, and there was a twang of an arrow freed of a bowstring from the opposite end of the room.

The bolt thudded home. Lancelot slumped forward.

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><p><strong>Yes, cliffies. SUFFAH!<strong>

**Have a nice day x3**


	7. Simple

**Remember how I said I'll update a chapter every day? And that I had finished the story so there was no need to worry about tardiness? Well, I lied *.* Turns out I wasn't finished ~ about 40% of the story changed since Friday, for the better, I'm hoping. But I spent several hours yesterday to get it done, and I've succeeded. And I did it all for you, my loyal readers :D**

***Sigh* Excuses are like noses: we all have one. And if wishes were fishes no one would starve. Happy reading :)**

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><p>~7~ <span>Simple<span>

"_No!_"

Arthur hurtled a gap in the floor and landed beside the fallen knight. He reached for Lancelot's shoulder, fearing the worst, and turned him over. Merlin, shouting at the same time as his friend, crashed down on his knees beside them both.

"What's with all the shouting?"

Arthur blinked in surprise. Lancelot grinned up at them both, but it was pained. "Look at you two. Acting like a couple of mother hens."

An unwilling grunt emitted from Lancelot's throat as Arthur checked his back, seeing the arrow embedded there – well, not _right_ in his back.

"My shield..." Most of the bolt's power had been impacted by the knight's shield, strapped to his back for safekeeping. But when Arthur attempted to pull it out, Lancelot grunted again. The bolt had still gone through the shield and the layer of chain mail.

Lancelot bit his tongue as they removed the arrow through flesh, mail, and shield, but fortunately, the injury wasn't too deep at all. They bandaged the wound as best they could with torn strips of extra clothing. The brave knight was up in no time, though he couldn't move his sword arm comfortably.

Now that his knight was out of danger, Arthur demanded Merlin to recite the riddle again. And again, and again, until he was yanking at his hair in frustration.

"We're just thinking too hard," Merlin whispered, biting his lip and crossing his arms. "Let's just take it one line at a time..."

They sat there for nearly fifteen minutes in complete silence, silence that was broken only when a clicking emitted from one of the fathomless pits. Merlin was sitting on a rock near where the sound emerged, and was evidently the only one who heard it. Unable to see down the hole, he stood warily and sat somewhere else.

They started rehearsing the riddle to themselves aloud, wracking their brains in search for an answer, until Merlin snickered. At first, the others ignored him, but when he made the incongruous sound again, Arthur turned to him, brimming with impatience.

"Well, _Merlin_, if you'd like to share what is so humorous on your mind...On second thought, never mind. I'd rather _not_ know what goes on in there—"

"It's so simple," said Merlin excitedly, leaping to his feet and grabbing the parchment from Elyan, who was staring at it studiously.

"Please, ex_plain_."

"'_I'm only there if you are not_!' See? It's obvious!"

"Blast it all, Merlin! If you don't tell me right now, I'll—"

"It's nowhere!"

Arthur's expressions flashed from anger, to confusion, then to surprise. "Nowhere. Horse turds, I don't believe it."

"Believe it," said Merlin, struggling not to smile in amusement.

"Well, if that's the answer," muttered Gwaine, "what happens now?" The party all looked around, as though expecting to see one of the many doors do something and reveal the way.

"Er, if the riddle was in the Ancient Tongue," began Arthur, "then—"

"—the answer must be said in the same language," Merlin finished. Then he frowned, and a look of uneasiness flew across his features. "Um..."

Arthur turned to him. "Oh no, don't tell me..."

"No, I know this...er..."

"Damn it, Merlin! Of all the words—" He grabbed his servant by the cloak and started to shake him desperately. "Come on, remember, you idiot! I swear, if you..." He stopped shaking Merlin as soon as he saw the uncontainable, goofy smile spread across the warlock's face, and knew that he had been joshed. "Oh, you—"

He grabbed Merlin in a headlock and drove his knuckles into his skull. Merlin grunted in protest, squirming to escape.

Then Arthur shoved him roughly away. "Well, say it! Go on!"

"_Öblîviüm!_"

The effect was instantaneous. There was a groan of settled earth shifting, and Merlin turned just in time to see one door flash green and purple. "There," he pointed. "I...I think it unlocked itself." The others turned to where his finger indicated. Gwaine reached it first.

"Sire, I am obliged to test it myself," he said with mocking formality. He threw out his chest and started to strut forward past the prince, but Arthur stuck out an arm, accidentally hitting the ruffian in the stomach and knocking the wind from him.

"No, Gwaine. This time—"

"_I'll_ do it." Merlin strode forward.

"Merlin, wait!"

The servant pulled on the handle.

Nothing happened. No one moved, no one breathed; even the door didn't budge.

Arthur massaged his temples as Merlin grunted and heaved at the door, trying with all his might to yank it open. With a sigh of impatience, he pushed the servant aside and grabbed the handle with one hand, to pull open with assuming ease. His arm jerked in the door's stubborn resistance.

"Of course," said Gwaine flatly, "the _one_ door that we must go through is bloody _stuck_!"

It took them all to move the door even a little, but eventually the gap was wide enough to emit first Merlin to shove from the other side, and then Elyan. When it was open enough to let them all through, they all rested and stretched.

On request, Merlin passed Gallahad a torch. The knight inspected the archway. Another long staircase was swallowed by darkness.

"Seems safe."

_Safe—safe—afe..._" his voice echoed. He took a step, only for a deep rumbling to halt his progress. Dust fell from above.

Arthur yelled something unintelligible and tackled Gallahad down the stairs and into the darkness as a stone slab proceeded to crumble over the archway.

"Merlin!" Lancelot tried to grab the warlock before he dove through the rapidly closing exit, but was too slow. He vanished into shadow and the rubble sealed the archway.

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><p><strong>Want more? Review and tell me that you either want a chapter a day and be finished in a week, or make it last two weeks with a chapter every two days. If there aren't any responses I'll assume it'll be every second day~That wasn't supposed to sound like blackmail 8(<strong>


	8. Don't Follow the Light

**Right lads, ladies. You've voted and it's a chapter a day. Thanks for reviews! They're very encouraging :)**

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><p>~8~ <span>Don't Follow the Light<span>

His throat coated in dust, Merlin soothed his coughing fit and stood, a rain of small rocks falling from his back. From the flickering light of the single torch, he saw through the dust cloud Arthur and Gallahad untangling themselves, several steps down.

The prince stood and gingerly touched his head. "Ow."

Merlin tried yelling through the rubble to the other side, but no matter how loud he was or how hard he listened, there was no response. They were alone.

"We must continue," said Arthur gravely, as Gallahad picked up the torch. "There's a way out on the other end, right, Merlin?"

The warlock unfolded the map tucked away in his shirt and studied the last illustration. It was just a simple sketch of a waterfall. He shook his head.

"Doesn't look like it. But then, this map is pretty vague."

Gallahad led the way, followed by Arthur, and lastly Merlin, down the crumbling stairs. Several times the case split, and they had to rely on the map to lead them right. Once, the path had gone in six different directions.

"Without that map..." Gallahad trailed off.

Arthur was surprised at the surety of Merlin's directions once he discovered the right way. The prince could swear that servant had lost his way delivering his breakfast some mornings!

"How can you figure that out without getting so discombobulated?"

Merlin shrugged lightly. "Just a natural talent, I suppose."

Arthur snorted, and whispered something non-too-quietly to Gallahad, who couldn't help but laugh.

Merlin glared at their backs as they continued. "Prat."

"Idiot."

Before the warlock could follow, something shifted in the shadows of another tunnel, accompanied by clicking and hissing sounds. Heart throbbing, Merlin fingered the dagger he had strapped to his side and made a hasty pursuit of his companions.

It was a long descent, one that they would not relish climbing again. It must have been half an hour down before it levelled out for a while.

Then, they hit the dead end.

All stared incredulously at the cave-in.

"I...don't_ believe _it!" Arthur roared. He kicked a rock, and then hopped around on his uninjured foot, cursing.

As Gallahad jammed his torch between two stones, Merlin started to climb the rubble until he reached the roof of the cave. "This isn't bad at all. I think we can clear this, just enough to slip past."

"Or we can squeeze through here," offered Gallahad, indicating to a split in the wall beside the cave-in. Arthur looked sceptical.

"Come on, Gallahad. Neither of us can fit through there."

"—I think I hear the waterfall, and there's a faint light—"

"No, but _he_ can." Gallahad pointed to Merlin, who glanced around, hearing himself being entered into the conversation. "With our bulk and armour, it's nearly impossible. But—"

"Merlin's a twig and can fit right through," finished Arthur.

Merlin investigated the crack, looking unsure himself. "I'm not sure. What if this isn't the right way in the first place? What if..." He cocked his head. "Listen. Do you hear that?"

The other two paused and listened as well. There was a faint hum, the unmistakable throb of ancient magic Merlin knew so well. It sang in sync with his own magic, though there was something else, something tainted—

Arthur shook his head.

"I don't hear anything."

"This _is_ the right way."

Gallahad uncorked his water skin and tipped the few drops from the depleted sack. "Either way, we won't get far without water. If there is that waterfall you heard and mentioned, then we should resupply. Even without food we should have water."

"He's right," said Arthur, unstrapping his own water skin and tossing it at his manservant. "You go through and fill up these while we work on clearing this rubble enough to pass. Keep an eye out for an exit – if we can't get out from there, we'll go back and try our luck in another tunnel. What choice do we have?"

Merlin stripped out of the extra layers of clothing he'd kept for warmth and was suddenly thin enough to squirm into the space like a bug. He was about a foot in when Arthur spoke.

"You said you saw a glow. Do you think...?"

Merlin nodded, voice muffled. "Whatever Morgana wants should be here. I'll look for that, too. At least I won't need the torch."

The warlock tore his clothes and scraped the skin off his front and back in his attempts to get through. After ten feet, the claustrophobia was almost too much to bear. Suddenly, he saw the dusk-blue light emitting through the end intensify a little, and he redoubled his efforts, getting stuck only a few times. When he broke through, he exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding and grimaced in pain.

As he regathered himself, he listened for the sound of work from the other side. When he yelled, their voices were just audible. The light was what held his attention, however. It came from an island on the other side of a small black-watered lake, which was fed by a roaring waterfall that emitted from a gap near the roof of the cavern. Something on the island glowed with the beautiful blue light, though Merlin could not see it as it sat atop of an altar across the it was a mound of wealth – jewels, coins, gleaming armour – but Merlin had no eye for those. The object's light kept him enchanted, singing like a songbird to his magic, soothing and alluring. He was entranced.

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><p><strong>Hm. Nothing interesting happened here. Alright ~ <strong>_**two**_** chapters. ;)**

**Before you get too excited, know the next one is shorter than this by a fair amount. So it had to partnered up anyway. Enjoy :D**


	9. The Leviathan

**Continuing on...**

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><p>~9~ <span>The Leviathan<span>

The snap of rock on rock finally brought him to his senses, and Merlin tore his gaze away. He instead looked at the lake. The black waters looked unnatural, somehow, and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He took a dozen cautious steps to the edge and crouched down, trying to penetrate its depths, with little success.

Dropping the three water skins beside him, he opened his hand, muttered quietly, and, with irises flashing like the sun, a glowing orb formed on his palm. The magic within warmed his heart, and the new light cast his shadow long behind him. His orb overpowered the blue light of Morgana's demand. Turning his wrist, he let the orb drop softly into the water, where it sank without a ripple and dropped down and down...

Merlin watched the water for life, to find it watching back.

His breath caught in his throat as the orb fell past a single, large ivory eye that stared back at him blindly. He fell back onto his rear, only to scramble to the edge again to take a second glance. His light had fallen past the eye and was now below a monstrous creature. All he could see was something swimming away, giant tentacle-like protrusions propelling the body like a colossal squid...

"Merlin!"

The young warlock jumped and stood quickly, returning to the cave-in site. Arthur was sticking one arm through a hole they had made. Merlin grimaced. He must have been staring at the island far longer than he thought.

"Do you have it yet?" the prince asked, turning his head uncomfortably to see through.

"No, not yet."

"Well, go on! If you had it now—"

"I'm just looking for a way across the lake."

Merlin returned to the edge of the water, to swiftly find a trail of rocks leading to the island. Once across, he climbed up past the treasure and stood over what appeared to be a feather, sitting innocently on the pedestal. It wasn't big, and despite its elegance, it wasn't all that impressive. Its magic, however, hummed at Merlin's, lulling it to sleep.

"Hurry up, already! Come on!" Arthur yelled.

The hum singing to Merlin intensified as he reached for it, and he hesitated before finally grasping the feather by the tip. Suddenly, the hum turned into a painful wail, and he screamed.

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><p><strong>Mwa ha ha! Dangle from cliffs, my pretties!<strong>


	10. Wake up!

**I've nothing to say. Enjoy! :D**

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><p>~10~ <span>Wake Up!<span>

From the cave-in, Arthur watched helplessly as his companion abruptly convulsed and howled in agony, before he fell back, rolled down the hill and vanished with a splash into the lake.

"Merlin!" Arthur roared. The water ripples calmed.

The warlock did not reappear.

Cursing, the young Pendragon tried in vain to squeeze through the small gap, before retreating and tearing at his armour. "Get this off me!"

With the aid of Gallahad, Arthur tore away the metal plates and attempted to get through once more. Ignoring the scratches and scrapes he received as punishment, he pushed through and snatched the torch Gallahad passed after him. He was at the water's edge in seconds. "Merlin!" he yelled again uselessly. He dropped the torch, unbuckled his sword from his side, and dove.

The water was freezing cold, and forced air from his lungs with icy claws. He opened his eyes to be amazed by something glowing blue, and a strange orb of light a short distance away. The orb was sinking, and dying, but the blue light, expelling from a feather-shaped object, was still in Merlin's hand.

Arthur swam furiously for his friend, only to have something propel itself in between them. A large air bubble coughed from his mouth and he nearly swallowed water in alarm. The leviathan, whatever it was, passed, and Arthur desperately wanted to break to the surface for air, but the orb suddenly died, and the feather's light was fading. He knew that if he left, he would never find Merlin again.

Trying to ignore his protesting lungs, he descended, hooked both arms up from behind Merlin's armpits, and kicked upward.

Fearing that he would suddenly feel monstrous tentacles wrap around his feet, he broke the surface and sucked in air loudly. He sputtered as he hauled Merlin to the shore, away from the island, and pulled him aground. Just as his feet left the water, something started to surface, which Arthur could barely see with the limited light of the forgotten torch.

He could, however, see a large, lumpy, dead-white body with one giant eye. Whether it could see him, too, he had no idea – all he knew was that he wanted it to disappear forever back into its lonesome abyss.

"Begone!" he roared, and picked up his blade. He slashed at the platter-sized eye, and heard a low moan of pain. The leviathan flinched away from the biting steel and sank, rapidly vanishing from sight.

Silence. Then: "How is he? Arthur?"

He ignored Gallahad and rolled Merlin onto his back. His friend's fist was still clamped around the feather. Arthur slapped Merlin about the face, saying his name over and over, with no results. He shook him, felt for a pulse and listened for a heartbeat, for a lack of knowing what to do.

"No, no—_no_! Wake up! Wake up, you lazy idiot! _Merlin_!" Arthur grabbed him by the shoulders, and then caught sight of the feather again. It looked like that of a peacock, only sapphire blue. Breaking the deadlock hold on it, he tossed it away, then punched the servant in the chest. "Open your eyes, curse you!" He hit him again, hard, in the stomach.

Water sputtered from between Merlin's lips. Rolling over, he vomited up water; Arthur thumped him on the back as he coughed. When he could breathe, he glanced around in confusion, his gaze falling on Arthur, who was shaking his head.

"Why do I always have to look after you?" he said. To Arthur's surprise, Merlin grinned, and then laughed.

Arthur joined him, and Gallahad called out, "Yes, yes, it's all very funny. Now can you help me? I'm stuck!"

Being bigger than Arthur, the knight had lodged himself quite snugly in the small gap, even without his armour. He had managed to get his head and one arm all the way through, but his shoulders were too broad to get far.

Together, Arthur and Merlin started to dig, hauling rocks away to free the knight. "Careful. Don't start another cave-in."

"What was that in the water, by the way?" the prince asked casually, brushing soaked hair from his eyes.

Merlin shrugged. "I haven't the slightest idea."

Gallahad started to work his other arm through. "That must have been the beast Morgana informed us of." He snorted in derision. "You handled with with nought but a sw—_Aaaaahhg!_"

Merlin and Arthur both recoiled in alarm as the knight screamed in agony and terror. "Help! _Something's got me!_"


	11. Trapped

**What the hell's got 'im?**

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><p>~11~ <span>Trapped<span>

The pair grabbed Gallahad's arms and started to pull, aware that the resistance was not only from the rubble. "Please, get me out!"

"_Pull_, Merlin! _Pull!_" The prince and warlock nearly sprained their backs trying to free their companion, but they both knew that it was hopeless. They endeavoured on regardless, even when their sweating palms slipped off Gallahad's arm bracers and blood started to gush from the knight's mouth. Only when his cries fell silent and he ceased to breathe did Merlin and Arthur, both deathly pale, admit defeat and release their hapless companion. He disappeared back into the shadows.

The only sounds to be heard was the roaring of the waterfall, and the sickening crunch of feeding.

"I hope it chokes!" Merlin growled as he overcame his disgusted horror, fought down bile, and picked up the torch, hoisting it like a weapon. Arthur snatched up his sword in both hands and bent his knees in a ready-position. His face was a mask of determination.

When the sounds of feeding stopped, they were replaced by a hissing, clicking snuffle. The beast was not yet sated.

"Stand back, Merlin," Arthur ordered, squeezing the hilt of his sword and gritting his teeth. Merlin ignored him, though his knees shook with fear when something huge – huge and _hungry_ – returned its searching to the cave-in gap. "I said, _stand back!_" A limb (tendril, claw, or pincer, they weren't sure which) poked through. Merlin swallowed his fear and lunged, swinging the torch and roaring in fury.

"_Yaaaaaahhh!_"

The monster, whatever it was, screeched in pain and flinched from the flames, retracting its limb from the hole.

"Arthur, we have to go!"

The prince ignored Merlin this time, at least until he noticed the rubble being quickly scooped away by the creature, enlarging the gap. He tried to slice at it, but it got dark as Merlin retreated.

"Merlin, wait! The light!" He attempted to rush backwards, but tripped and fell. He saw something that resembled a scorpion claw lunge through the hole towards him. He lifted his sword in defence. The pincer closed around the blade instead of his middle. He tried to move the sword and cut at any vulnerable flesh, but hard shell prevented it. The pincer closed and twisted, snapping the blade, his best blade, cleanly in two.

Arthur shut his eyes, expecting the end, but Merlin came to his rescue. Yelling like a madman, the warlock swung the torch about, and the beast hissed as the light blinded it. Grabbing Arthur by the arm, he helped him up, and they ran.

"Wait, the feather!"

"_Run_, Arthur!" The thunderous sound of shifting rubble grew faster and faster as the monster's prey escaped. It hissed and squealed in fury.

"The waterfall!" Merlin lit the way around the lake to where the water tumbled from a tunnel above. Man-made steps climbed the cliff. He started to ascend, Arthur on his heels, just as the creature finally broke through.

"Go, go!" Arthur yelled, the triumphant hissing of the beast echoing through the cave. The steps led right up to where the underground river fell, and a path ran alongside the water, vanishing into shadow.

"This way!" Exhaustion was disregarded as they bolted upriver, unconscious of the cold that started to return. The bone-shaking scratch of the climbing monster pushed them to sprint faster.

Merlin saw the fork first, and slammed on the brakes. Arthur, in turn, slammed into him, and they both crashed to the ground. "You idiot! Which way?"

One path continued along the water, while another split right, going up.

"I...don't know."

"Well, where's the map?"

"Useless. I fell in the lake, remember?"

The monster was in the tunnel. It sounded fast, _very_ fast.

"I say we go right," said Merlin, deathly calm, and Arthur followed.

They barely made it twenty paces before the monster reached their tunnel. Their legs burned in the ascent, but their pursuer seemed tireless. Yet as the passage got smaller, Merlin thought they would actually make it out – until the tunnel abruptly stopped.

This time, Arthur managed to avoid crashing into the warlock when he halted. "What _now_—? Oh, no."

"Has to be a way out," Merlin muttered, feeling the dead end. It was smooth, unnaturally so. "Must be a door..."

Arthur turned about as the beast neared, squealing with excitement as it sensed them nearby. "Hurry up, Merlin. Find _something_." He lifted his sword, until he remembered that it was broken, snapped in half.

"I—I think we have to push it open." Merlin felt for creases around the smooth rock. "Or maybe there's a lever, like the one we used to get down here. Probably impossible to open from the outside."

"Well, let's test it," said Arthur coolly, and threw himself against one side of the wall. Merlin joined in his efforts, pushing with everything he had. The beast approached ever closer, just as the hidden door budged half an inch.

"C'mon, _push_!"

They shoved until veins throbbed in their foreheads and their legs screamed in protest. Yet the door only moved another centimetre before something from the darkness wrapped around Arthur's leg and began to pull him into the shadows.

The prince automatically reached for something to grab onto, but only managed to tug at Merlin's shirt before he hit the ground and was dragged into the clutches of the beast.

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><p><em><strong>Lento cruciatu:<strong>_** Roughly translates to **_**slow torture**_**. *scary laugh***

**NO! I'M NOT EVIL **_**DON'T HURT MEH!**_


	12. So Cold

**Wow. You reread things over and over and **_**still**_** find mistakes—including ones you thought you already fixed but then you realize that you had forgotten to remove a word or change the tense or whatever. This one was a **_**mess**_**. Brownies for anyone who points out any mistakes on this one! Yummy brownies, with dried cherries in them. :D (You have an advantage: this last edit is at 11:00 at night.)**

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><p>~12~ <span>S-s-so C-cold<span>

"Arthur!" Merlin leaped after his friend, once more swinging the torch to startle the monster. But this time, it was ready.

A limb dodged out of the way of the fire and then lunged forward, and Merlin only had a second to realize that it was the head before it clamped its teeth down on his arm. He screamed, and the beast hissed with pleasure as fresh blood coated its foul tongue.

A stump of a blade gleamed in the fire light and stabbed upward into the monster's throat. Merlin's arm was abruptly released, and hot fluid splashed over the prince and warlock. But it did not die. It just got angrier.

Cursing, Arthur pulled Merlin away, back up to the hidden door, and once more threw himself against it. Merlin nearly followed suit, but he had to turn to force the beast back with the fire. He was starting to lose hope.

Then he remembered how sometimes Gaius deemed him a stupid genius.

Keeping the torch between himself and the monster, he half-turned and opened his free hand, palm towards the door. Magic spread its wings and blossomed in his chest. "_Ļëvŏ ořuş_," he whispered. Golden eyes flashed in the darkness.

The door flew open as though on oiled hinges, and Arthur was sent sprawling. Sunlight blazed through the opening, forcing both prince and warlock to shut their eyes in pain. The monster screamed in fury and agony as light hit its many eyes, all on different heads.

Blinded, Merlin dropped the torch and felt his way to Arthur, who was leaning a wall for guidance. Forcing his eyes open a slit, Merlin aided his friend up the rest of the way, towards the light, ignoring the lung-freezing cold. Fresh air never tasted so good.

Out at last, they rushed away from the hidden cave opening, only to slip and start tumbling down a hill. Unable to stop, they fell uncontrollably, head over heels, rolling through the freshly fallen snow.

Ψ

At the base, Merlin rolled into a prickly bush and Arthur slid stomach-down half way across the frozen river. Groaning, each stood and rubbed their still-sensitive eyes until they grew accustomed.

"S-so c-cold," Merlin stammered, trying to warm the hand of his uninjured arm under his armpit. Their damp clothes were already frozen, as was the blue-black blood of the cave creature splashed down their fronts.

"We have to shut that door," said Arthur, looking back up the mountain, though he did not sound enthusiastic.

"It'll be fine. The sun will keep the monster in there."

Arthur shook his head grimly. "But when the sun sets..." Merlin remained silent, swallowing, until he realized that something else was bothering the Pendragon.

"Sorry about your sword."

"My sword?" Arthur rounded on him. "I don't care about that, you fool! Two knights lie dead in that god-forsaken place, and perhaps four others. And for what?! A _feather_ that sits on the floor of a cave, now useless to us all."

Merlin reached into his pocket and held something up while Arthur circled and paced around, ranting. "We'll have to return to Camelot and gather a squadron, to fight the monster and save the knights. We'll retrieve the feather...we'll have to go there and come back here before the sun sets, which is in maybe, what, an hour? Two?...And how are we going to get back at all before this cold kills us..._Why are you waving that in my face_?!"

Arthur froze, staring at the feather in Merlin's hand, no longer glowing blue but still the colour of dusk. "What—how did...?"

"I managed to grab it on our way out." _With a little help from my forbidden ability_, he thought smugly. It was impossible not to grin at the look on Arthur's face. Then a blistering wind reminded them of their peril, and they shuddered.

"We have to go. _Now_."

Ψ

The farmer was reluctant to give up his horses, as they were all he had aside from a sow and some half-frozen chickens, all kept within the house for warmth. The poor beasts, too big to be inside, had to be wrapped in three horse blankets, but still shivered. Arthur promised to care for them and return them when the unnatural cold was banished, and would give the farmer two more horses and any other animal he would need as well. The farmer agreed, now shaken that he knew that his prince was in his house, and gave them some dry clothes and jackets to replace their water-drenched ones. He didn't ask how they got wet in the first place, or why there was dark blood on their old clothes, but one could see the curiosity in his eye. With no time for even a hot drink, the prince and his friend galloped for Camelot.

The horses were strong and proud, and they had stamina as well as speed. They carried Merlin and Arthur across the valley and up over hills, seeming to be unaffected by the ascent. The sun had touched the horizon by the time Camelot appeared through the trees, yet was still at least four miles away. The horses were starting to lag as exhaustion caught up with them. Merlin thought he would be unable to peel his frozen fingers from the reins.

Arthur prayed that the beasts of burden had one more gallop in them. "Let's go." He turned the horse's head down the last hill, but just as he kicked its sides, its legs suddenly spread from under it and they both fell, the horse squealing in fear. Merlin's mount whinnied at the sound of its frightened kin and reared a bit, tossing its head and refusing to go forward. As Arthur vanished into a mound of snow at the bottom of the hill, Merlin stood in the stirrups and prepared to dismount. A movement was caught in the corner of his eye and he turned to see Morgana, not five paces away.

She made a movement as though to shove someone away, and Merlin was thrown from the saddle. Feeling like he had been hit with air, he crashed into a tree as the horse screamed and bolted. Dazed, the warlock sat up, only to have the tree's snow plummet down on him like a mini avalanche. He dug himself out of the snow pile, shivering uncontrollably.

"Where is the Feather? Give it to me."

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><p><strong>Oooooh dear.<strong>


	13. Fire and Blood

**The end is near!**

**...**

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><p>~13~ <span>Fire and Blood<span>

Merlin oriented himself and stood, focusing his gaze on the witch.

"First, tell me why."

Morgana, starting to approach him, halted. "What?"

"Tell me _why_ you want this so much, why it's so important to you." Merlin's hand had unwittingly fallen into his pocket, but he could barely feel it for the cold. Morgana smiled as though she was trying to explain something to a simple child.

"Only one Phoenix has ever existed," she said. "And it bore one blue tail feather. Legends state that the Feather can channel magic, _great_ amounts of magic, at one time, more than normal for any sorcerer. It can make the bearer unbeatable." She stepped closer, a foxy smile on her ruby lips. "Dangerous, in the wrong hands."

Merlin backed up. "Then why did you send us in there? Why not get it yourself?"

"Have you not already guessed, Merlin? Were you not the first person to touch the Feather? Yes, I can tell it nearly killed you, and it should have. Perhaps I have underestimated your strengths." Her look became dark. "I'm glad it didn't. Now I'll have the pleasure myself."

Merlin jerked to the left just as two icicles snapped from a nearby branch and shot towards him, impaling themselves into a tree trunk like daggers. His head suddenly swam, and he remembered the bite wound on his arm. It had been hastily bandaged by the farmer's wife, but it had started to seep, and he had already lost too much blood. As he staggered, Morgana smiled cruelly, and sent another ice spear in his direction. He dodged left—

"Merlin!"

The warlock doubled over in pain, clutching the wound in his side. Ice shattered to his right. The spear had missed, but not entirely. Through bleary eyes, he saw the prince of Camelot trying to rush up the hill, with limited success. Hot blood soaked Merlin's hands.

"Well, well, quick, aren't you?" As Morgana spoke, a tree branch behind Merlin whipped him in back. He yelped and jumped forward, slipping sideways as he did so. Crashing onto his side, something jabbed into his hip, and he recalled the dagger still strapped there.

Morgana started towards him, and he stared at a fallen branch just behind her. His eyes were golden for second as the rogue, uncontrolled tendrils of his magic attacked. The branch unburied itself and flew between the sorceress's ankles. She fell on her face, gasping in surprise, just as Merlin stood and drew the dagger.

Before he could move any further, black chains, conjured from the snow, roped around his wrist from behind, yanking him back a step. As he tugged his arm to free himself, Morgana stood, angry, and drew her sword.

He managed to duck to avoid her first swing while using his free hand in an attempt to liberate the other from the chains, but before she could attack again, he switched his dagger to the unbound hand and sliced out wildly. The blade cut her forearm, and she gasped, retreating a step.

A second chain lashed out and wrapped about his shoulders, holding him in place. He pulled at the binds, growling in frustration. The magic within him choked on the taint of Morgana's, yet he held it in check. He can't use it, not while Arthur is—

Air whooshed from his chest as Morgana knocked him to his back and pinned him down with her black sorcery. There was a flash of blue as the Phoenix Feather flew from his pocket, whirled mockingly past his face and landed in Morgana's anticipative grasp. Flares of greed and satisfaction gleamed in her eyes, which reflected the azure of the Feather. A moment later, her sword was at Merlin's throat.

She slid the blade an inch down his neck, making him flinch. A ribbon of blood tickled his skin. Her cold eyes found his furious glare, and she smiled, lifting the sword for a stabbing kill. "Goodbye, Merlin."

A snowball exploded on the back of Morgana's head. She whipped her neck around to see Arthur half-way up the hill, another snowball ready.

"Back away, Morgana."

In an instant, Merlin was free. His eyes flashed like gold coins, the chains exploded into black smoke and he back-handed the witch's sword away. He lurched to his feet and tackled her from behind, yelling unintelligibly. Surprised, Morgana fell forward. They tumbled down the snowy slope together.

His side and his arm screamed at him as he locked grasps with his enemy, and his world turned upside down, then right way up, upside down, faster and faster—

Morgana clawed at his face, drawing blood from his cheek. He gritted his teeth and ignored the pain—

With a sudden jolt, they hit a boulder, and the impact wrenched them apart. The shock froze Merlin's limbs for a few seconds as he lay across the great rock. He pushed himself up and rested on one elbow, groaning. Morgana, equally stunned, lay a few feet away from him, half buried in snow.

He studied the beads of blood as they fell from his cheek and soaked into the ivory snow, staining the ice crystals ruby, and suddenly his vision swam. He felt so _tired_...

"Merlin!"

It was Arthur, charging down the hill after them, his sword – well, half his sword – in hand.

Merlin could barely speak. "No, Arthur," he choked out feebly. "Get away—" Morgana was fast recovering. He pushed up and got two feet under himself as Arthur neared, aiming to pass him and get to Morgana, near whom Merlin saw a flash of blue. "Stop!"

Morgana flipped onto her back and held the Phoenix Feather at the prince just as Merlin lunged between them. A stream of crimson fire blazed from the Feather and singed past the warlock's ear, hitting Arthur squarely in the chest. The Pendragon had no time to scream as the fire exploded on him and tossed him back through the air. He landed on his back, senseless, his front smouldering.

Crashing face down in the snow, Merlin lifted his head just in time to see his friend fall. He waited for him to shift, to twitch, to that indicate he was still alive. The prince was lifeless.

Merlin's heart tripped and he had trouble breathing. "Arthur?"

Silence.

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><p><strong>Did I mention how satisfying it is to make you guys dangle from your fingertips over cliffs? Figurative cliffs, of course. I wouldn't <em>really<em> do that to you...**


	14. Close, Close Enough

**Well, mates, this is it. You've made it to the end. I would like to thank you for your support and hope you found this legitimately interesting ;) ****There is the sequel called The Knight's Mare that you may enjoy :)**

**Again, thank you, LunaShadowWolf13, for introducing this site to me. I hope you are faring well.**

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><p>~14~ <span>Close, Close Enough<span>

The triumphant expression on Morgana's face quickly turned to fear as Merlin, yelling like a madman, pounced on her in a flurry of vengeance. There was a look in his eye she had never seen before – murderous, full of hate and fury.

It was frightening.

But then, he was no match for her newly acquired power, channelled by the Feather. The youth barely touched her before he was thrown aside, smashed into a tree and left dazed on the snow. His head moved once and he groaned, and then he began to stand. Morgana couldn't help but feel astounded at his strength and determination.

"Why can't you just stay where you belong," she hissed as he faced her, breathing heavily, "at my feet?"

Merlin leaped to the side to avoid the sorceress's fresh attack with lightning swiftness. The stream of flame engulfed the tree, devouring the frozen branches despite the cold. Black smoke ballooned skyward, but Merlin did not flee.

"You have no idea what I can do now, do you?" said Morgana. There was still no fear in the servant's eyes. "I could tear you apart from the inside out. I could call down a storm to smite you to dust. I could order the earth to split and swallow you whole, and no one would know. No one would _care_ because you're just a servant, a dog whose master is dead."

"You knew him. You _know_ him, better than most. How could you do this to him?"

"My little brother," Morgana smirked. "The pampered prince of Camelot. He stole my rightful place as heir to the throne – I'm ashamed to have shared the same father. I have lost nothing this day. But _you_ will lose much more than just a master." She raised the Feather.

Scouting trumpets blared not far away. Morgana hesitated.

"Arthur didn't steal anything," said Merlin, hands up, his voice pleading to make her understand. It was pathetic. "He was as ignorant of your birth as you were. He was your _friend_, Morgana."

"My friend. I thought _you_ were my friend, Merlin. My mistake got me poisoned."

More trumpets, closer this time. The sorceress noticed the smoke still bellowing from the tree, a beacon for Camelot scouts. The ruddy flames devouring the tree cast Merlin's face in shadow, but she could sense his pain. And his growing weakness.

"Look," he said. "You have the Feather. Arthur and I are at your mercy. You've won. Just lift the curse. You've put thousands of people at risk, _innocent_ people, Morgana. There was time when you would do whatever it took to help innocents—"

"That was long ago, Merlin. Things have changed. _I've_ changed. But I am still a woman of my word." She could hear the communicating trumpets and howling dogs more clearly now. Merlin was gritting his teeth. She thought that peculiar until she figured that being trapped against a burning tree can't be all that comfortable.

"Just go, Morgana," Merlin finally said, face beaded with sweat. "No one will follow you."

Morgana smirked. "Are you trying to reassure me? Or yourself?"

The servant merely stared.

"It isn't over, Merlin," she said, upholding the Phoenix Feather. "It's never over."

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><p>Merlin threw an arm over his face as smoke bellowed from around Morgana's feet and wind blustered the snow like a blizzard. A few moments later, the air fell still. He uncovered to see a melted patch where she once stood. Morgana was gone, the Phoenix Feather with her.<p>

He gave himself some time to recover, but then memory barged its way into reality, and he turned towards Arthur, still lying static in the snow.

"Arthur?"

Half walking, half running up the slope, he reached the still prince and crashed down on his knees beside him. "Oi, clotpole." Arthur didn't move. The warlock shook him, and then slapped him. "Wake up you arrogant, overrated, pompous toady dollop-head."

Arthur sighed, eyes closed. "Who you callin' dollop-head, you useless buffoon."

Merlin snorted. "Prat."

"Idiot."

Ψ

Merlin reluctantly swallowed the nauseatingly bitter-tasting concoction, pinching his nose to dull the foulness. He shuddered, and winced as his side stretched in protest. Somewhere behind him, Arthur blanched at the taste of his own mixture. Gaius held the potion to the prince's mouth until he finished every last drop, despite his resistance.

"There should be a law against nasty substances like this," said Arthur blandly, grimacing as the flavour refused to leave his tongue.

Gaius ignored that, passing him a vial of deep yellow goop. "Apply this to your chest every night for a week. I will have more for you by the end of seven days."

"Yay," Arthur muttered flatly.

Merlin grinned and reached for his shirt. He tried to put his bandaged arm through first, and then his unharmed one right after, but the shirt got tangled over his head. The more he tried to free himself, the messier it got.

Arthur snorted but smiled, shaking his head. He stood and straightened out the shirt, pulling it down for his friend. He couldn't help but wince at the sight of the stitched wound on Merlin's side, blood seeping through the bandages.

"I should never have dragged you into that," he said.

"You _dragged_ me into it?" Merlin adjusted the sleeve over his bandaged arm.

Again the prince snorted. "Yeah. You always get so _scared_ on those expeditions—"

"I wasn't scared!"

"Yes, you were," Arthur insisted, raising his eyebrows.

"No, I wasn't. I was terrified."

"...Touché."

"But you'll have to admit – you wouldn't have gotten far without me," Merlin added, smirking lightly. It was impossible not to hear the rushing water outside. The snow was melting, _fast_.

"This is true." Arthur grinned, then reached out and ruffled Merlin's hair.

The door opened, and the Pendragon turned. "Ah, Gwaine. Good to see you."

"Oh. Arthur. Thought we were finally rid of your ugly mug." They chuckled and embraced like brothers as Percival, Elyan, and finally Lancelot entered. They patted their prince on the shoulder.

Lancelot wandered over to Merlin. "Still breathing. That's good."

"Yep, pretty much." Merlin smiled, but it was forced.

The knight could see the worry swimming in the warlock's eyes. "Morgana got what she wanted, then."

Merlin nodded. "I couldn't stop her. I tried, but...If I had been faster, or stronger...And not only that, there's that cave creature still wandering about—"

"You doubt yourself too much, Merlin. You can only fight tomorrow if you live through today." He clapped a hand down on Merlin's shoulder and joined the other knights.

"Who's hungry? I could eat a dragon," bellowed Gwaine, throwing one arm around Elyan and another around Arthur and leading them out the door. Arthur's voice grew fainter as they departed.

"You're always hungry, Gwaine..."

Lancelot nodded once at Merlin and followed Percival out.

Gaius came up behind the warlock, eyes on the empty doorway. "Well, that was close to a 'thank you.'"

Merlin smiled. "Close," he said. "Close enough."

**Ӎεӷȴįŋ**


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